Cold December Night
by inlike12
Summary: Lizzie Bennet Diaries fic. A fluffy holiday future! oneshot of Lizzie and Darcy... written while listening to Michael Buble's Christmas album.


A/N- Okay, so I know that LBD takes place in LA and stuff, but for the sake of this fic let's pretend they've moved to New York, or Boston or someplace with snow. That is all. I'm writing this because of a lack of LBD fic and I need my fix.

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It has been two years and a month since William Darcy first professed his love for Lizzie Bennet—a moment immortalized and witnessed on the Internet by more than half a million people, and counting. Understandably, it isn't a moment that Lizzie likes to replay, even though according to the comments, her viewers have rewatched it "a million times!"

In those 25 months, Lizzie muses, her relationship with Darcy has gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. He has gone from being—in her mind—'Darcy ? Darcy who?' to becoming just Will. Now, as Lizzie stands in front of the stove, her Christmas playlist blaring out of the surround sound system installed in the apartment, recipe book propped up with bottles of olive oil and red wine and a well-worn copy of Anna Karenina held open to the right page with an onion on her other side, she realizes that she could not be more content with her life as it is right now.

She hears the sound of a key being turned in the door, and sticks her head out of the tiny apartment kitchen to see Darcy's slightly snow-covered back facing her as he locks the door and wipes his feet on the reindeer doormat Jane and Bing had given them as a jokesy housewarming present five weeks ago. This was in response to her and Darcy's earlier housewarming present to _them_—a kitschy wooden "Welcome to Our Home!" sign with a man and a woman looking perpetually cheerful. Darcy, in a fit of inspiration, had glued on plastic googly eyes over the painted black dots, which Lizzie later explained to the newlyweds with barely concealed glee ("Because of how you two always make googly eyes at each other!").

The place they've decided to settle into after deciding to move in together is modest and unassuming. Lizzie was adamant about finding a place they could both afford, her on her entry-level salary at a fledgling online journal and him…well…on his virtually endless funds, even though Darcy offered to put up more money for a better, larger space.

"A place with a balcony," he argued. "Maybe even a pool! Or an actual _library!_"

Stubborn as they both were, Lizzie eventually won the argument. She insists on not having William "shower her with money", while also (contradictorily) refusing to acknowledge the fact that he is "filthy rich". Darcy prefers the terms "helping my girlfriend out" and "well off". Still, he has learned, as Charlotte and Jane and Lydia have discovered long ago, that Lizzie sees what Lizzie sees.

"How was work today?" Lizzie calls out, while stirring the contents simmering away in the saucepan with a wooden spoon.

She smiles as Darcy wraps an arm around her waist and places a light kiss on the top of her head, moving then to kiss her temple, and her jaw.

"Terrible, but in retrospect, now that I'm here with you, it doesn't seem as bad." He murmurs into her ear. She can hear a gentle smile in his voice.

She turns around to look up at him, smiling back, before he kisses her on the lips. Lightly, at first, then stronger and with more force. Lizzie has to force herself to untangle her hands from his dark hair and break away to return to her cooking, face flushed and lips slightly redder than usual.

"Smells good," Darcy says, his voice growing slightly fainter as he walks out of the kitchen and off to their bedroom to change out of his work clothes. "What is it?"

"Clam chowder," Lizzie calls out. "I thought a nice warm bowl of soup would be good for the winter."

Just then, Michael Buble's _Cold December Night_ starts playing.

_Stockings are hung with care, as children sleep with one eye open…._

_Well now there's more than toys at stake cos I'm older now, but not done hoping…_

Darcy walks back into the kitchen in a heather-gray T-shirt and sweatpants, his dark hair slightly mussed from putting on his shirt (and from Lizzie's hands), a mocking grimace on his usually stoic face. "Ew, how mainstream of you," he says to Lizzie, half-jokingly.

_Each year I ask for many different things…_

_But now I know what my heart wants you to bring…_

Lizzie stops ladling soup into two ceramic bowls. On one bowl is the word "Newsie"; on the other, "Decent Enough". They admit freely that they are an odd couple.

Deciding to play along, she sets aside the soup ladle and places her hand on her waist, a smile starting to curl up the sides of her mouth. "Oh, really?"

"It's too…catchy. Too popular." He slowly makes his way toward her, her mischievous smile beginning to mirror itself on his face.

"Is that right?" Darcy's arms are around Lizzie's waist now, drawing her closer to him. She places both her hands around his neck, looking up at him challengingly. "I once recall a certain someone telling me that they thought catchy, popular music was really good for dancing…So…dancing…yeah. Dancing." She repeats this last part of her sentence in a low, stiff voice -the same voice Jane used in one of her video diaries, pretending to be Darcy.

Darcy finally lets out a boom of laughter. "All right, you win," he says, after they both stop giggling. All this time, he has been leading her out of the kitchen and into the living room.

_They call it the season of giving…_

_I'm here, I'm yours for the taking..._

_They call it the season of giving…_

_I'm here, I'm yours…_

He leans in towards her, their noses touching. "Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he breathes, "May I have this dance?"

Lizzie, dizzy with love and happiness, nods her head and smiles. "You may, Mr. Darcy."

_Just fall in love with me this Christmas…_

_There's nothing else that we will need this Christmas..._

_Won't be wrapped under a tree…_

_I want something that lasts forever…_

This dance is nothing like the awkward dance they first shared at that wedding long ago. It is warm and intimate, and not at all awkward. The silence between the two is comfortable, one that they both understand. Lizzie leans her head on Darcy's broad chest, and she can feel his heartbeat thumping in time with their swaying.

"You know, the soup is going to get cold…"

Darcy looks down at her, places a swift kiss on her nose, smiles, and says in uncharacteristically unsophisticated speech: "Screw the soup."

It has been 25 months since William Darcy first professed his love for Lizzie Bennet, and as they sway to Michael Buble's crooning voice, Lizzie cannot help but wonder again at how content she is with her life as it is right now.


End file.
